Unintended

A shrill beeping noise came from somewhere to the left of Percy's head. He felt the bed move as Oliver cursed, sat up, and blindly reached for the alarm. A thud and then silence announced that Oliver's hand had found its target.

Percy sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Go back to sleep," muttered Oliver, who was struggling to put on his Quidditch robes by feel in the dark.

"I'm getting up too," said Percy, putting on his glasses and yawning.

"The match doesn't start for another two hours," said Oliver, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "I'm just getting up because I have to eat breakfast and go for team warm-ups. Go on back to bed."

"No, it's fine," said Percy. "I'm already awake anyway. I doubt I'll be able to fall asleep again."

Percy shivered and put on a bathrobe, slipping his bare feet into the soft hotel slippers. He went into the bathroom and washed up, splashing water on his head to make his hair lie flat. He went back into the bedroom and dressed. He was looking at the room service menu, trying to figure out what he wanted to eat, when Oliver came out of the bathroom.

"Have you seen my Quidditch boots? I can't find them," he said, opening the wardrobe.

"Are these your boots?" said Percy, pointing at a pair of thick, leather boots with cleats on the bottom. They were partially hidden behind a chair.

"Oh, yeah," said Oliver, coming over and putting them on. "Thanks. Decided what you want to eat yet?"

"This ham and red pepper omelette looks quite good," said Percy.

"That's funny," said Oliver, looking up at him. "I was going to order that too. Great minds think alike."

He smiled at Percy and then dialed room service. Percy couldn't help but admire Oliver in his Quidditch robes. The tightly fitted robes accentuated the trim body beneath them, and the tall, thigh-high boots bore an aura of fierceness.

"Are my robes on backwards?" said Oliver, noticing that Percy was staring at him.

"Oh, no, it's fine," said Percy, quickly tearing his gaze away.

"Oh, that's a relief," said Oliver. "Did you know that I once went to a match with my robes on backwards? We still won though."

In a few minutes, the food came, and they sat down at the table. Oliver had ordered a very large plate of fruit and also sausages to go with the omelettes, which were delicious.

"Close your eyes and open your mouth, Perce," said Oliver, grinning mischievously.

"Why?" said Percy, swallowing the last of his omelette.

"Just do it," said Oliver, and Percy obeyed. A second later, he felt something wet bounce off his cheek.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What was that?"

"Eyes shut, mouth open!" commanded Oliver, aiming another grape at Percy's open mouth. It soared in a graceful arc over the table before landing right in Percy's mouth.

"Oliver!" said Percy, his eyes flying open. He coughed. "You nearly made me choke."

"It's just a grape," said Oliver, shrugging unapologetically. Now smiling, Percy took a handful of grapes and began to pelt Oliver with them. They bounced off him and rolled on the floor. Seconds later, they were having a full blown grape fight.

They stood at opposite ends of the room, hiding behind forts made of pillows and chairs, throwing grapes at each other.

"Score!" yelled Oliver, when his grape bounced off Percy's forehead.

Percy tore off another handful of grapes and rushed forward to fling them at Oliver. Just as he strode forward, his foot caught on a chair leg, and he fell forward. Oliver saw him falling and scrambled to catch him, but only managed to end up sprawled beneath him on the carpet.

"You okay, Perce?" came Oliver's muffled voice from beneath him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Percy, rolling off him. "Sorry, I--"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence because Oliver's lips were suddenly on his.

"Tripped?" said Oliver, grinning and trying to look like he wasn't breathing hard.

"Yeah, something like that," said Percy, leaning forward for another kiss.

They were lying beside each other on the soft carpet, smiling contentedly, when a pounding on the door startled them. "Oliver!" called a voice. "Get up!"

They sat bolt upright and Percy untangled himself from Oliver's robes, hurdling over the fallen chairs to barricade himself in the bathroom as Oliver went to answer the door.

"I'm already up," said Oliver, opening the door a crack.

"Oh," said his teammate, who was also already in Quidditch gear. He caught a glimpse of the room behind Oliver and raised an eyebrow. "What happened in here?"

"A horde of monkeys attacked my fruit platter," said Oliver, deadpan. "I'll be out in five minutes."

"Okay," said his friend, looking bewildered. "Just hurry up. We'll all be waiting for you in the lobby."

Oliver closed the door and turned around to find Percy laughing in the corner.

"A horde of monkeys?" he said between guffaws. "Good one, Oliver."

He stopped laughing when he realised Oliver was staring at him and frowning.

"What's wrong, Oliver?" asked Percy.

"You're not...festive," he said.

"I'm not what?"

"Festive," repeated Oliver. "You haven't got on anything...England-y. You know, for the match."

Percy looked down at himself: he was wearing a light blue polo shirt and dark jeans.

"But it's alright," said Oliver, swinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. "We'll get it taken care of. Let's go downstairs."

"Downstairs?" said Percy.

"Yeah, the team's already down there," said Oliver, striding to the door.

"You want me to come with you?"

"Why? You don't want to?" said Oliver, turning around to look at Percy.

"No, it's not that..."

"Well, then what are you waiting for?" said Oliver, pulling Percy to the door. "Let's go."

As they took the lift down, Percy thought that this was maybe what he liked best about Oliver--the fact that he seemed to have no inhibitions. When they were together, Percy felt free, like he could do anything he wanted to. Even if he felt uncomfortable at first, Oliver would always wipe the awkwardness away with a funny remark or one of his trademark grins. Or, as he frequently did, he would make the first move.

They walked out into the lobby, where the rest of the team stood chatting, along with their coach and the driver Percy had met the night before.

"Finally," said the player who had come up to Oliver's room early. "You certainly took your time."

Oliver ignored the remark. "Guys, this is Percy. He's come to watch the match."

"Hi," said Percy nervously, though he needn't have been. The team welcomed him warmly and they all climbed into the limousine that was idling at the curb.

This was Percy's first time in a limousine. He marveled at the lights that changed colour, the full bar, and the flat-screened television that was currently tuned to the news broadcast.

"May I propose a toast?" said Oliver, holding up a bottle of unopened champagne.

"Oliver," said one of his team members, "that's the celebratory champagne. We haven't even played them yet."

"To victory," said Oliver, uncorking the bottle anyway, and taking a swig.

The team member sitting next to Percy leaned over and whispered apologetically, "Sorry. He usually gets like this when he's under a lot of stress."

"You mean he gets drunk before he plays?" said Percy, looking stunned.

"Yeah, unfortunately. He's a big drinker. You should see him at parties. We've been trying to get him to stop--you know, telling him his liver's gonna bust if he doesn't--but he doesn't listen. It gets really bad when we play at the championships."

"I had no idea," murmured Percy. He watched Oliver protest as his teammates managed to pry the bottle out of his grip, and made a mental note to discuss this with him.

The car stopped, and they all got out. Many of the spectators were already in the stadium, and Percy could see vendors everywhere.

"Get this man some spirit," said Oliver, herding Percy over to a vendor and handing him a bag of galleons. He clapped Percy on the back and then left with his teammates to warm up. Percy bought an England shirt, hat, pin, and flag. Feeling extremely foolish, he took his seat in the stands. Oliver had called the ticket office and told them to reserve a box seat for him, so Percy had probably the best view in the entire stadium. As he looked down, he could see both teams warming up on the pitch. He could see Oliver's bold "18" on the back of his billowing robes.

Twenty minutes later, the stands erupted in cheers as everyone stood to welcome the two teams.

"And here we have it..." boomed the announcer. "...one of England's top players...Oliver Wood!"

Percy's heart swelled with pride when he saw Oliver make a loop around the stadium, waving to the spectators. He was surprised and pleased when Oliver paused in front of the box seats and gave a wink in his direction, flying off again. The fan girls in the seats below dissolved into giggles, thinking that the wink had been meant for them, but Percy knew better.

He watched the game with the Omnioculars he had purchased, sitting on the very edge of his seat. He abandoned his feelings of anxiousness and cheered along with everyone when Oliver successfully blocked a shot from the opposing team. He even hugged the strangers sitting next to him when the Seeker caught the Snitch and won the game for England, three forty to two seventy.

He rushed down from the stands and saw the team's driver, who let him into the team locker room.

Jem, one of the players saw Percy come in and smiled.

"Congratulations," said Percy, smiling back. "Where's Oliver?"

"Oh, he's still in the shower," said Jem. "But I wouldn't approach him if I were you--he's a horrible singer." Jem walked away, snickering.

Percy waded through the other team members, congratulating them. He finally came to the showers. The running water was quite loud, but not quite loud enough to mask Oliver's voice.

"...and I'm getting closer than I ever thought I mighhhht..."

The water was shut off, and a second later, the shower curtain was shoved aside. Oliver stepped out, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack and wrapping it around his waist. Percy quickly averted his eyes.

"Oh, hi, Perce," said Oliver, spotting Percy when he turned around again. "Did you enjoy the match?"

"You were brilliant," said Percy sincerely. "But there's something I need to talk to you about."

"What's the matter?" said Oliver, looking concerned.

"Oliver, it's about your drinking..." began Percy.

"Oh," he said, looking sullen. "Did Luke tell you that?"

"I can't remember which one is Luke, but this is serious. If your drinking gets out of control, you're going to end up hurting yourself, and other people too."

"You saw me out there today," countered Oliver. "I was great. And I wasn't even drunk. I mean, come one. It was only a couple sips of champagne."

"Oliver, I'm telling you this because I care about you," said Percy, placing his hands firmly on Oliver's broad shoulders. "You need to stop. I can get you help, whatever you need. Just stop, please."

"You don't need to worry about me," said Oliver, pushing Percy's hands off his shoulders, "but it's nice that you care."

He stalked off into the locker room, leaving Percy standing there, hurt and alone.

----------------------

A few hours later, Oliver and the team were in the hotel lobby, having dinner with the opposing team. They joked and laughed and had a nice time. They said their goodbyes, and then the team went upstairs to continue the celebratory events.

They all gathered in Oliver's room, and Jem passed him a bottle of champagne.

"Now, you can propose a toast," he said, and everyone laughed. There was the popping of the cork and Oliver poured champagne into everyone's crystal flutes. "To the sweet taste of victory," he said, draining the glass in one gulp, then immediately pouring himself another one.

His teammates exchanged looks, but none of them said anything. It was not unusual to see Oliver drink so much after a victory (he usually drank more after defeat), but they had begun to get worried. Oliver would often come to practice tipsy, even if it was morning practice. They had no idea if he drank in the evenings or how he would be able to fly straight with a hangover, but somehow he remained as good as ever.

No one even knew the reason for his excessive drinking. They supposed that it was the pressure of maintaining his status as one of England's top Quidditch players, but suspected that there was something else that was causing it. But what? No one had the nerve to ask. Oliver was known to get very touchy about certain things, especially if anyone mentioned the word "mother." He didn't like it when they talked about their fathers either, so everyone just avoided the subject.

The team knew that Oliver's mother had died at a young age, and that he had a falling out with his father when he became a professional Quidditch player, but no one knew the details or dared to ask. Why ask anyway? It would only bring him pain.

"Look who I found," said Troy, coming into the room, followed by half a dozen beautiful girls. "They're staying across the hall from us."

"Hello," said the prettiest girl, looking directly at Oliver. "Mind if we join the party?"

"No, not at all," said Jem, grinning. Oliver poured drinks for everyone again and someone switched on the music and dimmed the lights.

"We were at the match," said the girl, who was dancing with Oliver. "You were amazing."

"Thanks," said Oliver, finishing another glass of champagne and setting his wineglass down.

"My name is Layla," she said, leaning close. He could smell her perfume, a combination of sandalwood and something flowery. Her dark hair and exotic brown eyes indicated her Egyptian heritage, but her English was barely accented. Her cool voice and the touch of her fingertips made him shiver with pleasure.

The beat of the music was steady, and they danced, their hips gyrating in sync. A thought about Percy flickered in his mind, but he was too drunk to keep hold of it. Eventually, he found himself in the bedroom with Layla, kissing her.

"You're beautiful," he said, letting his mouth roam over her smooth, olive coloured skin. She did not wait for him to unzip her dress, but let it fall to the ground, stepping over it as they stumbled onto the bed. He pinned her against the mattress, and they rocked in time with the pounding music.